Dark alleys, gas light haze
Smog riddled sinners in a gloomy maze
This is the decade of us sordid sons
We keep the devil from the streets, have justice done
Filth riddled dreadful air
In every nook and crevice lures the devil's snare
A proper captain needs his sordid sons
To keep the devil from the streets, have justice done

No splendor, no praise
The chosen hides his face
What inglorious display
When the sordid son breaks your sordid ways

The foul mob claim sin for sin
Every rotten urge seems to exist within
This is the decade of us sordid sons
We keep the devil from the streets, have justice done
A sick tree bears poison fruit
The sordid son kills the sickened root
We rid the shadow of each wicked witch
We chase the devil from the devilish twitch

Crook and sinners, debauched lot
Dispatched from being by the righteous knots we tie

Decree by decree a burden upon us
Shunned, twisted debris
They all drift towards us like moths drawn to flame
A fatal attraction towards death and shame
A race for the gallows by a pitiful pack
To join their brothers atop the sordid son's rack

Bystard by bastard perish to show
Their gullible brothers who watch from bellow
That sin has its price and the price has its toll
Paid by hangman and judges with a piece of their souls

So...
This is the decade of us sordid sons
We keep the devil from the streets have justice done
You must know this is the decade of us sordid sons
We keep the devil from the streets have justice done

You've got a sickened tree bearing poisoned fruits
So stomp it dead beneath your sordid boot
There is no rest for shaking hands
Eternal servants to the crowd's demands
You know an ordered prosperous happy kind
Need their bastard sons and their sordid minds
See the devil hides behind many a guise
And you can't be certain until the subject dies

All shun the bastard son of law
Disposable justice whore

Bastard son
All shun the bastard son
No one, the bastard son
Filthy
Unclean
Bastard son of law

03. The Hangman's Hatch

Nine coffins lined against the wall
Nine black suits lay ready for all
Nine future widows wearing jet-black shawls
Nine men waiting for the hangman's call
Sobs and prayers sounded through the hall
Some glorious flag waved proud and tall
Paying homage to the justice about to befall
Those men waiting for the hangman's call

The trail they followed, heads bent low
Nine condemned men, a downtrodden foe
From door to scaffold so that all shall know
Where instigators and their likes eventually go
Hatches opened one by one
Ropes sprung tight as all nine swung along
The flock cheered in unison song
In gracious sympathy for all the nine had wronged

Big, small, short and tall
All men equal at the hangman's call
Who, why, where, from whence you fall
It's all indifferent when the hangman calls

Hatches opened one by one
Ropes sprung tight as all nine swung along
The flock cheered in unison song
In gracious sympathy for all the nine had wronged

Young and old, feint or bold
Just or vile, wrong or right
Big and small, short or tall
All men are equal to the hangman's call

Big, small, short and tall
All men equal at the hangman's call
Just or vile, wrong or right
It's all relative to when the noose draws tight

Colours change, the new hang higher
Radiant like the ideas they represent
Red, blue, black, whatever pleases
It all turns to grey when the hangman's hatch descends

A new day and a new standard hung high
For nine other men the end is pretty nigh
Doomed for paying homage to what befell
Those men who perished at the hangman's spell
Hatches opened one by one
Ropes sprung tight as all nine swung along
The flock cheered in unison song
In gracious sympathy for all the nine had wronged

04. The Bolted Door

There stands a bleak massive door
At the end of a long winding hall
A massive, dreadful, disheartening thing
Guarding terrible, dreadful things
It looms in the dim dark light
Lock upon lock, it's sealed shut, shut tight
It's been moulded through ages in dim dark rooms
To a thunderous beat of impending doom

There history is written, forgotten, ignored
And more men have died than in any war
Misdeeds of the future and sins from before
All blend in the gloom behind those locked doors

Prowling madmen, killers and kings
Stalk the shadows while judges and lawyers sing
Songs of justice and hymns to the lord
Dancing in secret to the devil's chord
Some bones must be broken and some blood ignored
Each man is due to the demons of yore
Prowling madmen, killers and kings
Grin in the shadows while judges and lawyers sing

That bolted door at the end of the hall
Will keep our secrets safe
That bolted door at the end of the hall
Will keep our secrets safe for evermore

There stands a bleak massive door
At the end of an immaculate hall
A massive, dreadful, disheartening thing
Guarding terrible, dreadful things
Its thorough design keeps pandemonium at bay
But once in a while one or two ghosts escape
Then a whisper of madness might pass chased through the night
By dogs of law with a furious bite

Written, forgotten, rewritten, ignored
Pages twisting, turning
Each man is due to the demons of yore
Creeping, crawling, calling

Misdeeds of the future and sins from before
All blend in the gloom behind those locked doors

Some bones must be broken and some blood ignored
Each man is due to the demons of yore
Prowling madmen, killers and kings
Grin in the shadows while judges and lawyers sing...

...of a higher form, to elevate us all from our gullible selves

Nothing ever happened behind those blessed doors

05. This Cursed Flesh

Scrubbing skin, cleanse this cursed flesh
Oh that vile stench of sin seems to seep from within
I still smell his burning fat, his bowels turned
Oh that rank smell of sin seems to stick to my skin
Was his death unjust? Well I dare hope not
His sentence may falter, but the end that he got
Neatly executed with impeccable skill
Just like I'd wish my end when it is fulfilled

I pray it must draw near
This burden turned to much to bear
I wish I could greet my long trusted friend
My only true companion to and through the end

Scrubbing skin, cleanse this bloodied flesh
Oh that vile stench of sin emanates from within
I still feel those woeful stares, their scent of fear
And that rank smell of sin seems to stick to my skin

Were their deaths unjust? Well I would bet not
Such nasty, demeanours account for a lot
So we sent them off to the best of our wills
Still that accursed room echoes with their screams so thrill

Is this endless delirious strain, sore pores and bloody chains
All I shall attain, has it been to no avail?
This raucous delirious strain returns again and again
The ghosts of the slain, from my bonded domain

I pray it must draw near, my burden grievous
I'd greet my trusted friend
Intent companion loyal through grace and grief parade and gutter
My aide through life and lot I beg you to collect me

06. I Hung My Heart On Harrow Square

The cart carrying the damned came rolling at a steady pace
On it a sorry, defeated lot, carried through the morning haze
Three men and two women, en route to their doom
To die by my hands, before the clock struck noon

I hung my heart on Harrow square
Laid that noose around her neck and strung her up there

With a steady gracious stride, she climbed the scaffold stairs
Begged me to be quick and clean, then shed one single tear
This god-like, glorious thing served to an ungodly end
Foreordained at our only meet, a lot for which I'll spend...

...hours tormented through ages repent
My one true loss of that lover I sent
To fire and brimstone to torment and flame
To face the beyond without knowing her name

Forgive me my dear your devout murderer
A broken down pauper in grave disrepair
Forgive me oh dearest I solemnly swear
That time's long gone when I last stood here...

... with that awful plight on Harrow square
To lay that noose around your neck and string you up there
I hung my heart on Harrow square
Lay that noose around her neck and strung her up there

07. Crowning The Cycle

Now listen man:
There's no good to be found in this mire
The muck's just deeper and the further you dig
The more it sticks to your soul and skin
Slowly settling the taint within

When all is said
We'll be amongst the practical dead
Cut off from the way ahead
Picked as the world colludes
To see the circle conclude

Now listen man:
There's just filth to be found in this mire
The more you struggle, the faster you sink
So abandon your search
If you're stuck in hell
You're worse off if know it was well

When all is said
All blood is bled
We'll be amongst the practical dead
Cut off from the way ahead
A broken, battered brood
Casualties of the general mood
Picked as the world colludes
To see the circle conclude

Hear the mob calls my name
To quench its bloodlust again
One final glorious act
To end this dismal, this dismal sinister pact

Our sentence, the crowning of the cycle, our final closure

Our sentence, the crowning of the cycle
One final time to stand before the howling hundreds
Blood surging like thunder, our final closure

08. Of Branded Blood

I lie here listening to sounds of this insane city
Twisting and turning for hours, still not able to sleep

For hours I have been twisting, turning for sleep
But terrified of what awaits

For days now I have been yearning for relief from this time and space

From the depths of limbo I hear calling, still I strive to cling
To the shards of a broken realm to maintain my essence, save my soul from hell
In the depths of Somnus my trial awaits me to deliver my plea
A scornful mob of the justly dispatched to hand me my verdict with sentence attached

The moist, stale air grows thicker, hotter, smothering me
Like the unwanted child of a deluded self-righteous mother
That abomination for long I have served

From the depths of limbo I hear calling, still I strive to cling
To the shards of a broken realm to maintain my essence, save my soul from hell
In the depths of Somnus my trial awaits me to deliver my plea
A scornful mob of the justly dispatched to hand me my verdict with sentence attached

No peace, no glory gained, just transient relief from worldly strain
Lo' there's no eluding those mental chains, of a soul pawned for a crock of gold
For the broken subject not of thought but of told, like a broken statue cast into the mould
Still as change might occur, forced or change from stir
The mind still retains some quintessence remains
Some essence maintains its grip on the broken man
To pull the soul from the iron hand
To cleanse, to purge, to wash away that bloody brand

Please don't weep for me sister for I have done much wrong
Don't despise me my brothers what's done is done
I've been lost on a cold night, been gone far and long
And for my deeds I'll repent there on my electric throne